A swallows flock a-soaring
The golden twine,
From Father’s hands
In the ocean’s womb
Oh, Mother blue,
Among the poppy blossoms
Spotted merrily about
On those crimson groves
Of sweet honey filled notes
Upon that opened wing…
A grain of hope
WHERE I STILL DREAM OF YOU
watercolors, metallic, acrylic + ink on cold press paper,
15.5 x 22.5
Original art + poetry (2022)
'Nature is mortal; we shall out live her. When all the suns and the nebulae have passed away each one of you will still be alive. Nature is only the image, the symbol . . . We are summoned to pass in through Nature, beyond her, into the splendor which she fitfully reflects. And in there, is beyond Nature, we shall eat of the tree of life.
We do not want merely to see beauty, though God knows, even that is bounty enough. We want something else that can hardly be put into words -- to be united with the beauty we see, to pass into it, to receive it into ourselves, to bathe into it, to become part of it. . . . That is why the poets tell us such lovely falsehoods. They talk as if the west wind could really sweep into a human soul; bit it can't . . . Or not yet.
Meanwhile the cross comes before the crown and tomorrow is Monday morning. A cleft has opened in the pitiless walls of the world, and we are invited to follow the great Captain inside.'
-C.S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory
“Is it that the message of nightmares and dreams? To live either fully alive…or in empty nothingness?
It is the in between that drives us mad,
It is the life in between the walking lifeless, the years of calloused and simply going through the hollow motions, the self-protecting by self-distracting, the body never waking, that’s lost all capacity to fully feel- this is the life in between that makes us the wild walking dead.
How do we live fully so we are fully ready to die?"
-Ann Voskamp, One Thousand Gifts